foul children

I will give you all my money if you give me a Stranger Things spin off about Steve, Hopper, and their 6 foul mouthed children. No supernatural shit. Just puberty problems, trying to translate Shakespeare for homework, arcade games, all day Dungeon and Dragons sessions, and arguing over who has to pick them up from AV club.

That’s all I want.

(Also if you could put Max’s step-dad in jail and have Billy get his ass handed to him, but then have some major character development & growth that would be great.)

(And by major character development I mean a significant personality change with an insane amount of apologizing, therapy, and anger management classes.)

The people attempting to vagueblog about my Joe West posts seem to be…missing the point.

The point is not that Joe West is a terrible human being who was maliciously attempting to harm Barry and Iris. He was not. No one is saying that. He was genuinely trying to do what he considered to be his best for them by his own standards.

It is that, despite his “best” attempts, Joe West was a terrible father. He was emotionally abusive. He so thoroughly denied Barry’s agency to the point that Barry, the adult, is a pathological liar who can’t seem to tell the truth until he’s called out on it - likely because he’s afraid, yet again, that no one will believe him. Canonically we see him telling a child Barry repeatedly that he doesn’t believe him and trying to keep him from seeing his father to the point that Barry had to run away to prison to see him. That’s not healthy. No one made Joe act like that; he chose to do it.

He gave Iris the silent treatment when she wanted to follow a career path he disapproved of - so thoroughly that she gave it up and never tried again. He took away her beloved comfort animal because she, a child, broke a record of his, and he’s still sulking about it twenty years later. No one made him do either of those things.

Iris was so convinced that he would freak out and punish her if he found out about her relationship with Eddie (who he considered a good and upstanding man, who he relied upon as a partner, etc. - the sort of person you WOULD want to date your children) that she hid it for months during a very stressful time period in her life when her lifelong best friend was in a coma…and guess what? He did! He outright harassed his previously respected coworker in a way that would get him severely disciplined in just about any field and blamed it on Iris - and he did it for no other reason than the fact that Eddie, an adult, was dating Iris, an adult. He had no objection to Eddie for any other reason. It was literally nothing more than “how dare you, a person I would otherwise absolutely respect and admire, touch my adult daughter with her permission”. And even after Iris and Eddie finally told him to knock it off, Joe spent the next few episodes encouraging Barry to confess his crush to Iris - likely as a deliberate attempt to break Iris and Eddie up, since he certainly wasn’t really comfortable with them actually getting together later on and he certainly wasn’t paying attention to how Iris (who had committed to Eddie and was in love with him) would feel about Barry’s confession. No one made him do any of that.

His first reaction to finding out that Barry had engaged in a risky relationship was to encourage one of his children to lie to the other, a lie he insisted on maintaining for months, well after there was any sign that Iris was going stop to be obsessed with the Flash and engaging in danger simply because she didn’t know who he was. No one made him do that.

He lied to his daughter for TWENTY YEARS about her mother. He robbed Iris of any relationship she could’ve had with her - or, indeed, the ability to choose. If Francine hadn’t shown up, do you think that Joe would have ever confessed the truth to Iris? Or would he have seen Francine’s death announcement in the papers and breathed a sigh of relief that his secret would remain safe forever? And then he started sobbing about it, making Barry and Iris the ones responsible for comforting him for the lie he chose to tell them. No one made him do that.

He told his children that their college funds were why they couldn’t go out to restaurants - a deliberate guilt trip - when he was actually using the money on himself to go on a cruise. Which he didn’t tell them about until years later…when he laughed about it. No one made him do that.

He so thoroughly fouled up teaching his children basic morality that Barry, who works for the police in what is supposed to be a modern day post-9/11 environment, knowingly engaged in keeping people in solitary confinement without a trial - in large part because his father figure, Joe West, a policeman, also knew about it and supported it. He did that. He did that.

Joe West did not intentionally set out to hurt his children. He did what he thought was his best.

you did it with Ryan, and kind of mentioned it with the one about them being kids on Los santos at the same time but could you consider team nice dynamite being a thing before the fahc?

What
a horrifying catastrophe. Not so much terrifying rumour as neon
warning sign; the epitome of collateral damage, less interested in
taking over the world than they are burning it to the ground.

They
met when they were almost painfully young, when Gavin comes all the
way to America to work with a crew only to find that they’d
misrepresented themselves. Had sold him on a single job, with the
possibility of discussing more work, when in reality they had no
intention off letting him go. It’s a big gang, nasty, and while they
covert his talents they clearly think Gavin is otherwise more or less
harmless; quick and clever but easily cowed. There’s an argument,
some unfortunate unpleasantness, then a week or two of waiting for
some violent action, some futile stand. When it doesn’t come they
know they’ve got him, crew leaders more smarmy and self-satisfied
than ever as Gavin slinks about the base with drooping shoulders and
a permanent guard.

Michael
had been working with the crew, not really a full member yet – they
were stringing him along, making him prove himself over and over and
he wasn’t exactly rushing the process along. He’d gotten involved
without knowing enough about them, young and eager to make his mark,
only realising his predicament when it was too late to just walk
away. It’s not the way things are done with this kind of crew, and
Michael resigns himself to hunting for someone bigger and badder to
align with or risk catching a bullet to the back of the head.

Michael
didn’t know what was happening with the British kid until the
fallout, and honestly he didn’t really care. Made him respect the
crew less, made him more eager than ever before to trade up and get
gone, but he’s no one’s hero and anyone dumb enough to take an offer
from Los Santos at face value, swallow the promise of some kind of
utopian partnership from strangers across the sea, deserves what they
get. The fact that Gavin seemed interesting, weird and bright and
funny before the carpet was pulled out from under him definitely
doesn’t haunt Michael’s thoughts. Doesn’t make him consider breaking
them both out – he can’t go carrying deadweight after all, and
anyone who crumbles this quickly will never be an asset. It’s just
sad really, kind of pathetic, and Michael does his level best to stay
away from him. Doesn’t want to watch Gavin shrink into an obedient
shadow, or worse, make a friend only to abandon him in this hellhole
when the opportunity to leave finally presents itself.

What
he failed to anticipate was the fact that Gavin doesn’t fold like a
house of cards, doesn’t resign himself to a new life or kill himself
trying to get away. He doesn’t even make a quiet escape, slip out in
the dead of night when even his guards are asleep, oh no. This, it
turns out, would be America’s first taste of Gavin’s furious wrath,
and they couldn’t have been less prepared.

Having
kept himself apart Michael was the only one who noticed it happening,
the only one who recognised the source of the slow destabilisation of
the crew, the surprising origin of countless petty fights and ever
growing tempers. He watches Gavin’s idle chatter seep out, tracks the
path of poisonous rumours as they spread throughout the crew, and
says nothing. Gavin turns harmless words into knives, bows his head
to hide a vicious smirk as he talks the crew into gutting itself and
Michael, who tried so hard not to look, suddenly can’t look away.

Bringing
down the leaders doesn’t take all that much, in the end; when there’s
nothing connecting them but violence and power there is no true
loyalty, they’re each as paranoid and selfish as each other and all
too willing to believe the others might plot against them. It was
terrifying, morbidly beautiful, but not quite enough. Not when
they’re armed and Gavin isn’t, free when Gavin isn’t, not when
eventually they’re going to put two and two together and maybe Gavin
is prepared to go down with this ship, die knowing they cannot
recover from what he made them do, but Michael’s not done yet. More
than ready to stop sitting on the bench, to exercise his itchy
trigger finger, not quite prepared for the most interesting thing
thats ever happened to him to end so soon.

It’s
not even that difficult, really, not with the whole crew fractured
and dwindling, when everyone’s too busy pointing fingers at each
other to look for threat from the distant outsider. Michael’s let
them think little of him for far too long for them to worry about him
now, and it’s the last mistake they’ll ever make. What Gavin ruined
Michael destroys, neatly foreshadowing the future of their
partnership.

The
two stay together even once they leave, recognise each other for what
they are, kindred souls, matching violence in their smiles, chaos in
their blood. The flame and the gasoline, inseparable once combined,
delighting in devastation. The reckless carelessness of youth
combined with near heartless violence results in a dangerous kind of
confidence, flippant and self absorbed, interested in nothing outside
their own amusement, refusing to accept the possibility of any line
they shouldn’t cross, any difficulty they cannot overcome. What could
stop them now that they’re together? What could anyone do but get out
of their way? Gavin talks them into fortunes, Michael tears them out
of trouble and they both revel in the mayhem they leave in their
wake. Relish the ability to do whatever they like whenever they like
with no unwanted master pulling their strings.

Not
that no one is interested; their reputation precedes them and
everyone from big crews to wanna-be somebodies have recognised their
potential. Bar some serious behavioural issues they’re basically the
dream team if anyone could keep them. Clever, violent, entirely
amoral and quick on their feet, appealingly loyal and young enough
that they should have been easy to manage if only they could be
convinced to care about anything outside of each other, outside of
playing and performing and planning the next wild adventure.

It
almost shakes them apart, sometimes, that need to do something
drastic. Something grand and unforgivable, cataclysmic. Chasing after
any flashy thing that catches their attention, forever wanting bigger
and more thrilling but lacking any real direction. It has them at
each others throats as often as not but they always pull it together
in the end, unshakable affection winning out over frustration every
damn time, and woe to any who tried to capitalise on their momentary
troubles. Who try to pull one away, encourage the rift, who think
this priceless opportunity rather than a minor bump in the road.

The
more harmless opportunists, the ones who just try to sell their own
grandeur, to recruit Michael and Gavin, or worse, one or the other
are merely jeered out of the room, left confused and humiliated but
still whole. Those who try to contain them, restrain them, pull them
back to some degree of responsibility for their actions and force
them into deals they have no interest in complying with are simply
torn apart. Left as warning, as promise, a reminder that for all
their inexperience, their aimless wandering and lack of allies,
Michael and Gavin are the furthest thing from harmless.

It’s
not that they’d never work with another crew, theres something to be
said for a steady home, for someone else to watch your back, to plan
your attacks, its just that they have a hard time trusting anyone
else. A hard time believing that joining a crew won’t land them right
back where they started, that any boss would truly understand that
loyalty can’t be taken by force, that allegiance needn’t look like
subservience.

So
when the infamous Ramsey comes along and offers them a job they turn
up their noses, bare their teeth and laugh in his face. When he
offers again they try to disappear, ghost away like they have
countless times before. When he tracks them down regardless they take
out one of his safe-houses in explosive retribution. He comes back
and they taunt him, sharp words and defensive sneers. Still again he
returns, to threats, to violence, to childish graffiti and a layer of
furious distrust coating possessive fear. They push and shove and
snap and snarl and do everything in their power to chase him away and
every time they think they’ve managed he turns up again, unnervingly
mild mannered and relentlessly insistent. He offers and is met with
complete disbelief, offers and is met with a million and one
questions, he offers and somehow winds up in a negotiation that costs
him his car and all the cash in his wallet with nothing in return.
Geoff offers more than a job, offers a home, a family, a surprising
tolerance for their many quirks; he lays all his cards on the table
and lets them try to shred him apart, faintly amused but never
condescending. He offers and offers and offers but never takes, never
forces, never even alludes to the fact that he could, the way his
position of power is so disproportionately greater than theirs. Geoff
offers, and in the end they say yes.

‘I just don’t get it is all,’ said Sirius as he bent down to fish something out of his school bag. ‘This is the second time this month, and every time he goes he just comes back looking even worse.’ Sirius then jumped up to proudly hold out a small ball from his bag.

‘Don’t say that Sirius’ James replied as he snatched the ball and quickly hid it in his pocket.

‘What? Its true.’

James, Sirius and Peter then started to slowly make there way over to the other side of the potions classroom, continuing there conversation about Remus.

‘I’m just starting to get really worried.’ Sirius admitted, as he caught sight of the target.

‘We all are mate, but until we can figure out what is up there’s nothing we can do, you’ve annoyed him enough already with your constant badgering about it.’

Sirius let out a hum of dissatisfaction and opened his mouth to reply, just as he elbowed the cauldron of the Gryffindor he was walking past, causing it to almost fall over if James and his lightning quick reflexes hadn’t grabbed and steadied it.

Peter groaned. ‘Guys, if we are going to put this exploding ball in Severus’ cauldron, don’t you think you two need to be a little stealthier?’

‘Fine.’ grunted the other two as they reached a prime position, right behind Snape and his cauldron, and at the right angle so they were just out of his line of sight.

Sirius let out a childish giggle ‘He’s never going to see this coming.’

‘Sirius will you shu-’

‘No but Lily don’t you see, I was reading about it last night, werewolves are these foul creatures that eat children and kill people for fun, its not about the person its about the monster they become once they’ve been bitten.’

‘Severus don’t say that, when have you ever met one? Besides what reading? Where are you getting these books from?’ came the voice of Lily Evans, who was standing idly stirring her potion next to the greasy haired Slytherin.

‘The source isn’t the point,’ dodged Snape. ‘The point is that there are all these dark creatures out there in the real world and werewolves are part of them, they aren’t good people Lils.’

James looked stony standing behind Severus. ‘He’s so vile, I bet hes been stealing all those twisted books of the older Slytherins. Saying all that stuff about dark creatures.’

Sirius looked less repulsed. ‘He isn’t wrong though.. I mean i once heard my mum talking about this werewolf she had heard of, his name was Greyspine or something, and he would go and attack people for fun, biting kids and that stuff, especially when he transformed, which is quite a lot by the way, once a month, I mean, werewolves aren’t nice animals.’

James snorted ‘Yeah, because your mum always has the best opinions on people’ Sirius blushed slightly and shrugged. James felt bad about the remark so he added, ‘Well I mean it’s not like we ever have to meet one to find out so.. Wait what did you say about once a month?’

BANG. Severus Snape’s cauldron had exploded almost immediately after Peter had run up and dropped in the exploding ball and everyone in the surrounding area had become drenched in what was a half finished floating draught, that now instead just burned the skin of the people it touched. Not the three Gryffindor boys though, who were standing back at their table laughing loudly and staring at the chaos.

Laughing less loudly was the messy haired one, because the ball had just dropped, and James Potter had realised something about Remus Lupin.

Barbie Constantino grew up as your typical knucklehead troublemaker. She was born and living in the Philippines until she moved to New York at the age of 8, where she didn’t know anyone at all outside her family of two parents, a brother, and a sister. To make matters worse, the only way she knew how to make connections with other people is to throw some punches and playing dirty with an unwavering smile on her face. Then comes age 14, her most pivotal year, where her parents and older brother has decided that she needs some straightening out before entering high school. The best plan they came up with is getting outside help from etiquette schools for children with foul behavior. Thus, they signed her up for etiquette classes. It turns out, Barbie has been taking the wrong directions and started training at a local dance studio, where she will eventually form a street dance duo under the name of “TOYBOX” with her dance partner Peony. So things haven’t gone according to the family’s plan, but they’re happy enough with the neighborhood complains having died down. Five years has passed by since then and Barbie continues on with moving her arms and legs to the rhythm with that unwavering smile.

You had learned countless times in your younger years about the golden rule, one that must be followed at all times to make everyone’s experience at school or anywhere they went better. It was such a simple rule, yet the underlying meaning behind went way past the words that came out of someone’s mouth.

Okay, so I’m literally in the middle of exams, but a little procrastinating wouldnt hurt right? Right!

I’m catching up on some requests and so, here we go!

Request:
Hi! Could you do a Pietro imagine where Pietro and the reader hate each other, but the avengers force them to work out there differences, and they discover that they both have feelings for each other? Love your blog btw. Great imagines too. 😋

Thank you, sweetheart. I’m sorry this is way past due but here you go !! :)

“Um,”
Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not sure if that’s right, but okay,”

“What do
you mean it’s not right? I set this myself.” Y/N scoffed.

It wasn’t
often that Y/N was to be left out of a mission. This only happened now because
she had a broken leg and was unable to walk. It wouldn’t be logical if they
brought her along an extraction mission that would involve breaking and
entering, so Steve had to make her stay home.

Y/N was
positioned in the lounge with her leg propped up on the coffee table and her
crutches resting on the arm of the sofa. Steve was currently waiting for the
others to suit up, so he decided to keep her company.

After a
silence, Steve sighed in frustration, “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,
why wouldn’t I be?” Y/N shook her head and patted her cast, “Isn’t the first
time I’ve gotten a broken leg and was left in the tower alone— oh, and wouldn’t
it be nice to have the tower all to myself.”

“Um, you
won’t exactly…” Steve tailed off as Natasha walked into the room, all equipped
and ready to go. Tony and Clint followed soon after, talking about strategy and
Wanda walked in, putting her arms through her jacket.

“You
ready to go, Cap?” asked Natasha. Steve nodded and stood from his seat, “Is
every one good?”

“Yep,”
Tony nodded. “Barton and I thought of a little entrance if ever we were going
to break in with style.”

Clint
clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers as he pitched, “Fireworks,”

“No,”
Steve stated and watched as Clint scowled at him and Tony grimaced, “You’re no
fun.”

“Hey,
where’s Speedick?” Y/N asked, noticing that the pestering nuisance wasn’t
hovering over Wanda, like she expected him to when she entered the room.

“He is
out getting pizza for the night, I believe,” Wanda answered. Y/N scrunched up
her eyebrows in confusion and said, “Wait, you’re coming back tonight?”

“No, no,”
Wanda said. Steve grew uncomfortable at the situation, knowing that there was
going to be a major problem. “Pietro cannot cook for his life, and I doubt that
you would want to eat his food.”

“Hold on,
what’s going on?” Y/N demanded. If her speculations were true to what was about
to happen, then she was screwed.

“We got
you a babysitter,” Tony said, a hint of mischief in his tone. “It’s free and
effortless!”

“Maximoff?!”
Y/N almost screeched. Wanda raised a brow and then smirked, “You know, he isn’t
all that bad.”

“But—“

“C’mon,
Y/N,” Clint pushed. “It’s just for a week or two; it couldn’t be that bad,
right?” Clint and everyone else knew that they were lying to themselves. Y/N
and Pietro did not at all go well with each other. They go into a room together
and in less than a second, one of them comes out fuming. It was usually Y/N,
but with the broken leg, lately it’s been Pietro.

“Then it
would be easier to get away from you, no?” Suddenly, Pietro was walking into
the room with a slice of pizza in his hand and his signature smirk on his face.
He wasn’t in any way prepped for the mission, making Y/N’s hopes of the team
just messing with her shatter. As Y/N gaped at him in disbelief, Pietro turned
to Tony and said, “I will watch over her.”

“No, you
won’t,” Y/N growled and turned to Steve, “Please,
just take him with you— or me! Take me
with you.”

“That is
rude, don’t you think?” Pietro frowned and took a bite off of his pizza. “Y/N,
if you just stop being infuriating, you and I will be fine.”

Y/N
gasped, “I’m infuriating? Excuse me,
and you are an angel?”

“Pietro…”
Wanda warned but he paid her no attention, “If I am an angel, draga, you are a saint.”

“There
are a million things I can call you, Maximoff, you should be grateful that I
don’t use foul words around children.”

“Children!
Did you just call me a child?”

“Read
between the lines, moron!”

“At least
I do not whine about everything, princessa,”

“And who
says I whine?!”

“Everyone thinks you whine!”

“I only
whine about you walking into my fucking life!”

“I didn’t
ask the universe to meet you. Do you think I’m happy about having to spend the
week taking care of you? Do you think I’m going to enjoy this at all? I drew
the shortest stick out of the bunch, that’s why I am going to stay here with you. You should be grateful for the
fucking pizza!”

“I’ll be
more grateful if you leave me alone with the fucking pizza!”

“Oh my
god!” Clint yelled out, silencing the two bickering heroes and drawing their
attentions to him. “That is it!”

“I can’t
believe they locked us in the panic room,” Y/N huffed, setting down her
crutches and sitting on the little love seat the small (not so small) panic
room provided. Steve was right about Tony changing the pin code of the lock,
and now she was stuck in the room with Pietro, courtesy of Hawkeye. “They
didn’t even give us the pizza.”

Pietro
banged on the door, “Hey, give us the pizza!”

“No,”
Clint stated on the other side and brought his fist down on the metal door,
hard. Unfortunately for Pietro, his head was resting on the metal and the vibration
of the door hit his head. “Ow!”

“Ha!” Y/N
laughed. “You didn’t see that coming?” she mocked and laughed again.

“You
know, I am glad you can’t move. You can stay there, and I will stay here on
this much more comfortable bed.”
Pietro smirked and flopped himself down on the given bed on the other corner of
the room. Y/N mentally cursed herself
for not taking the bed, but there was no turning back now.

“Clint?”
Y/N called out, but to no avail. She sighed, “They’re gone.”

“Well,”
Pietro groaned, turning on his side. “This is going to be a long week.”

All
throughout the day, Pietro and Y/N were bickering about anything and
everything. Pietro would tease Y/N about not being able to walk and she would
get on his nerves by yelling at him to do things for her. The list of arguments
and insults went on, and in the end, they hated each other as much as ever.

It was
currently half past midnight and Y/N was fast asleep on the couch with her head
unevenly propped up on the arm of the chair and her legs sprawled out in an
uncomfortable manner. As for Pietro, he was lying on the little bed, facing
away from Y/N and staring at the wall, thinking about the events of today.

Pietro
would often do that, go through his day in his mind at night when it was most
quiet and peaceful. Questions like “what
if I didn’t put my underwear on today?” and “What if Tony were the one who drew the shortest piece of paper earlier
and not me” littered his mind, until that one question that always found
itself searching for his answer attacked him once more.

“Why do I do this to Y/N?”

If Pietro
were to be asked in the confinement of his room by his sister what he thought
about Y/N, he would say it all.

He
wouldn’t mention how much she annoyed him, or how much he hated it when she did
specific things because none of those were true— Pietro liked Y/N.

But no
matter how hard he tried to fix things, she would always be caught up in the
thought that he hated her.

Why did
Pietro act that way around her? He didn’t know. He wanted to blame it on his
ego and his cockiness, but it wasn’t just that. It was the longing to be just
right— to be bad enough for her, for he knew how she showed an interest in edgy
men, yet what was he? Certainly not someone she would fall for.

They
would have their days and their moments where they would actually enjoy each
other’s company, and those days were the ones that Pietro enjoyed and treasured
the most, and he prayed every night for the next morning to be one of those
days. Too bad the heavens only grant his wish once in a blue moon.

As he
sighed to himself, he heard an uncomfortable groan come from Y/N’s mouth as she
shifted on the couch. Immediately, Pietro stood up and walked over to her. Y/N
had just taken her pain killers, so she was a groggy mess when Pietro spoke to
her.

“Y/N,” he
whispered softly, a complete contrast to his earlier yelling. “Y/N, I’m going
to pick you up okay?”

Y/N’s
eyes opened to tiny slits as she struggled to focus her vision on Pietro, “Hm?”

“I’m
going to move you, yes?” Pietro said again and slipped his hand her back and
her legs. She groaned, “Pietro…”

“Shh,
it’s okay,” he assured her, “I will take the couch.”

Pietro
lifted her up with ease and relocated her to the small bed he was once resting
on, giving Y/N’s back a satisfying stretch. She hummed satisfaction as she
snuggled herself into the warm sheets. Pietro smiled as he slipped his arms
away from under her body. Just as he was about to turn around, Y/N stopped him.
With the little energy she had, she managed to say, “Where are you going?”

“I will
be on the couch,” he told her. “Do not worry about me,”

“No,” she
pouted and tugged on his wrist. “Plenty of room ‘ere,”

“It is no
problem, Y/N,” Pietro chuckled, although his heart was beating as fast as he
could run. “I have slept on rubble enough, the couch will not be in any means
uncomfortable to me.”

Pietro
pressed onto the hand that gripped his wrist and gently unlatched it from him. She
frowned, but said nothing.

When
Pietro rested on the couch, he heard her sigh. “I’m sorry for being mean to
you, and calling you Speedick, and pulling your hair, and calling you a mutt…”

Pietro
frowned, “It is okay, Y/N, please go to sleep.”

“You’re
too nice to me.”

Pietro
scoffed, “I highly doubt that. Go to sleep, Y/N.”

“I will
if you come over here and make me,” she muttered, her eyes still closed but a
faint smirk played upon her lips. Pietro took a moment and at first decided
against it, but when he saw her pout, he gave in and slipped in beside her,
making as much room between them as possible.

Y/N
sighed and turned to face him, “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“Of
course I do,” he told her honestly. “You are… you are amazing.”

“And you
are too,” she confessed, feeling for his hand in the sheets. Pietro saw the
notion and initiated it by wrapping his hand around her lurking one.

“Why must
we fight?” she asked. Now, Pietro knew that her eyes were closed and she was
fighting the urge to go to sleep, but he could sense the sincerity in her voice
which made his heartbeat race. “I don’t know.”

There was
a silence before Y/N said, “Thank you, Pietro.”

Pietro
frowned. “For what?”

“For not
giving up on me.” She said. “I see your efforts. I know you try to fix things,
please don’t think that I don’t. I know you think I’m an insensitive, and
arrogant and awful person, but you never stopped trying to make things okay
between us,”

“Y/N…”

“And I
think that’s why I like you,” she said, opening her eyes and looking up at him.
The dim light in the room illuminated their faces enough for the other to
appreciate the beauty before them. “I hate to say it, or maybe I don’t, but I
really, really like you, Piet, and I
know you don’t feel the same way and you might think I’m a weirdo in the
morning and I hope to god, if you do right now, that this is all a dream.”

Pietro
chuckled and brought a hand up to her face, “I like you too, Y/N.”

Y/N could
feel her face heat up and she was thankful for the darkness of the room. “You know,
I figured out the code right before I went to sleep.”

Pietro
raised his brows, “Why didn’t you set it in then?”

“I guess
I liked spending time with you.” She shrugged. “And also, I couldn’t get up
remember? And I kind of kicked my crutches away from me when we were fighting.”

Pietro
laughed and shook his head. She smiled at the sound of his laughter. It was the
first time she made him laugh instead of want to rip his hair out. When Pietro’s
laughing subsided into small chuckles, he suddenly turned shy again. “May I hug
you?”

Y/N
smiled and shut her eyes. “God, I hope this isn’t a dream.”

“It
isn’t,” Pietro grinned and brought her close to his chest as he buried his face
in her hair. “I’ll see you in the morning, weirdo.”